


save you for a rainy day

by justaboat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaboat/pseuds/justaboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au. niall is a popstar and louis is still in university and distance really fucking sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save you for a rainy day

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to greta, amber, and ramla for reading this over for me. much love.
> 
> i've had this sitting in my google drive finished for three months, so here it is! enjoy!

_louis._

It’s half past two in the morning and he can’t pick what kind of crisps he wants. There are different flavours and bags, some in containers and others in reusable bags and Louis had no idea that the market for crisps was so extensive, really. At the front of the store he can hear the man behind the cash register watching football and looking as though he’s about to pass out from exhaustion at any moment, which. Louis can relate.

He decides on barbecue and regular, so he puts them into his basket, moving on to get a cheap bottle of wine that he puts next to his double chocolate cookies. Apparently he’s wallowing, which could be guessed with his purchases at this ungodly hour, but Louis had decided when he got off work that he was allowed to wallow. Fuck what Harry keeps telling him about moving on and finding someone new, because he doesn’t want to do that. Not yet. So instead he’s going to get drunk off cheap wine and eat crisps well into next week until his exams start and then hopefully fall into his bed and never resurface until Christmas holidays.

The game is going on loudly, with the announcer getting excited over some penalty that Louis can hear. He decides that he might need another bag of crisps. And possibly another bottle of wine, though that’s inevitable at this rate. 

He has an unanswered text from Harry that he should really respond to, but instead Louis finds himself going through the movies that are on sale with a sign reading _Two for Ten!_ in bright highlighter lettering. There’s some titles he knows, like Grease, and one with what looks to be Vin Diesel on the cover. He tosses four of them into his basket, not even bothering to read what they are. From there he reaches the magazine section, stacked and arranged in a disorganized mess. He stares at them for a moment.

It’s snowing outside, the flakes big and covering the ground easily. Louis runs his tongue over his lower lip, stinging a bit at the contact. ‘ _Ten Secrets You Didn’t Know About Irish Heartthrob Niall Horan! Plus: what does he look for in a girl? Also, we’ve got the scoop on his upcoming album! Check this issue for an exclusive tell-all interview!_ ’ Louis blinks, staring at the cover. He takes in a slow, deep breath. He should’ve seen this coming, honestly, what with the exact same magazine at the bookstore he and Zayn had been browsing through the other day. Except that Zayn didn’t let him stop and look, tugging on Louis’ elbow and instead taking him to look for a gift for his mother, whose birthday was last week. But he found himself thinking about it the whole ride home, wondering what it had all said inside.

He reaches out, his gloved hand picking up the magazine and he drops it into his basket, right when his phone starts buzzing from inside his pocket. Assuming it’s Harry, he picks it up, already defensive when he answers, “I’ll be home soon will you calm down? I told you not to wait up for me —”

“ _Louis?_ ”

It’s not Harry on the other line. He freezes from where he’s standing, suddenly feeling as though his feet have been permanently glued to the spot. His heart beats faster in his chest because fuck, he wasn’t expecting this. 

“Yeah um, hi. It’s me.”

“ _It’s Niall — but you already knew that, I’m such an idiot —_ ” in the background there’s random shouts, yelling that’s slightly muffled before he’s speaking again, “ _how — how are you?_ ”

Louis swallows. He considers hanging up, but he can’t seem to fucking move so he doesn’t, instead kicking at the old tiled floor. “Oh, I’m alright. Just doing some shopping,” he replies, closing his eyes tight and trying to tell himself this is some weird, very detailed and very real nightmare.

“ _Isn’t it like three in the morning?_ ”

“I got off work at eleven, so.”

“ _What have you been doing till three?_ ” Niall presses, sounding like his usual concerned self.

“I’m at that corner store near my flat, you know the one you always went to after the pub?” Louis replies, putting the phone on his shoulder.

“ _God, of course. They had the best fucking donuts, do you remember?_ ” he asks and fuck, it’s almost like he’s here, right now, Louis thinks. He winces.

“Harry ate an entire box once by himself and got sick in my bed,” Louis says and he hears Niall laugh quietly in response.

“ _Christ, that was awful._ ” There’s a pause, neither of them saying anything as the shouting resumes on the other end. “ _Are you sure you’re okay?_ ”

“Sure I am. Why do you keep asking?” Louis doesn’t mean to snap, he’s just tired, that’s all. Just tired.

“ _Because usually you’d be asleep by now, I guess. Uncharacteristic of you is all,_ ” Niall says after a moment, his voice slow.

Louis is suddenly very aware of a hole in the sleeve of his sweater, enough for his thumb to fit through as he pulls at it. “I suppose. Just can’t sleep.”

He hears Niall hum in response but fuck him if he thinks Louis is going to say anything else, because he feels cornered, if anything. “ _Harry keeping you up with his singing again?_ ” Niall asks and he’s trying to make Louis laugh, trying to fix whatever he can from fucking LA. But some things you can’t fix, Louis wants to tell him, not when you leave like that.

“No, no. He’s taken a leave on his singing career,” Louis says, pulling again at the hole. He watches some of the fabric rip, making the hole bigger. “Is there — is there a reason you called, Ni?”

“ _Wanted to check in, I guess._ ”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, having put down his basket somewhere beside his feet, leaning against the magazine rack. From where he’s standing he can easily eye the two bottles of white wine, and he wants nothing more to be out of this store and in the warmth of his flat with them tucked under his arm.

“Right, well. You’re all checked in, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t have to see it to know that Niall’s frowning, most likely hurt and frustrated from wherever he is right now. 

“ _I wanted to let you know I’m coming home soon,_ ” Niall says, “ _in about two weeks. For Christmas._ ”

“Oh,” is all Louis says, unsure of what else to say. He hears the man at the front mutter a string of curse words. His team is losing, apparently. 

“ _I should, go. Just thought I’d let you know. Was a stupid idea, I should’ve texted or something —_ ”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m. I’m glad you called. It was nice to hear from you,” Louis tells him, trying to sound reassuring.

“ _I’ll see you in two weeks, I guess._ ”

“See you then, Ni. Let me know if you wanna do something,” Louis says.

“ _Sure thing. Bye, Lou,_ ” Niall says before hanging up, leaving him staring at his basket and regretting putting that fucking magazine in it in the first place.

But he doesn’t put it back, instead keeps it in there, walking up to the front of the store to pay for his order. The man asks for his ID and Louis hands it over, waiting until he’s rung through, his items put into a plastic bag and heads to the front door.

There’s a small layer of snow on his windshield so he uses his gloved hands to wipe it off before getting into the drivers seat. By the time the car starts he’s already shivering, his breath visible in little puffs as he starts off down the street toward his home, though all he can seem to think about is how Niall had sounded on the phone. Mostly tired, a little irritated, but somehow genuinely sorry, though why Louis has no idea.

Well, that’s mostly untrue. He knows why, he just chooses not to think on it too much.

The roads are quiet, which shouldn’t come as any surprise at three in the morning, and he pulls into the drive, spotting Liam’s car. There’s a bit of ice along the walkway, so he walks carefully, taking out his keys, opening the door, and feeling the warmth from inside as he closes it behind himself. From the living room there’s a small bit of light from the fireplace and he sets his keys onto the countertop. 

Harry and Liam are both fast asleep on the couch, never having made it to bed. Louis makes his way back into the kitchen, turning on the kettle. He moves slowly, making sure not to wake the sleeping couple in the living room.

“You could just drink the wine you got,” a voice comes from the doorway. Louis doesn’t turn, because he knows that sleepy voice too well.

“Thought tea might be the more responsible choice since I’ve got placement in the morning,” he replies, holding up a second mug as a question. 

Harry nods, rubbing his eyes as he leans against the counter. They don’t say anything for a while; Louis moving about while Harry looks as though he’s going to fall back asleep on his feet at any moment. It’s quiet, the snow muffling any sounds from outside and Louis thinks he prefers it that way. 

“Are you alright?”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, taking the milk out of the fridge as he shrugs, not quite answering Harry’s question in response. “Yeah, I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The floor is cold beneath his feet, making his toes numb. “Talked to Zayn. Told me Niall said he was going to maybe you call you tonight,” Harry says, but he knows. 

“He called when I was at the service station,” Louis tells him finally, because there’s no use in going around it.

Harry’s staring at him. “How was it?”

And he wants to say it was fucking awful and he doesn’t want to talk about it, but instead Louis turns, facing Harry as he crosses his hands over his chest, almost defensively. “Fine. We talked about how he was doing, all that.”

“All that,” Harry repeats slowly, tapping a finger against his thigh. “Did he tell you when he’s coming back?”

 _If_ he’s coming back, Louis thinks to himself. The last thing he wants right now a weird sort of divide in the group of them, because it’s always been the five of them. But now it’s just, it’s not. If only because Niall is in Los Angeles, but still, that hardly changes anything. 

“Two weeks from now,” Louis says, clearing his throat, “for Christmas.”

Harry nods, taking a few steps when the kettle goes off, high pitched and loud. Louis winces. He moves to see if Liam’s still asleep but Harry just laughs quietly. 

“He’s still asleep, trust me. Could sleep through a fucking earthquake if he wanted to,” he says and when Louis takes a look, he’s not wrong. Liam’s still there, unmoved and eyes still closed, fast asleep.

“Are you alright with him coming back?” Louis asks, taking his mug of tea from Harry as he goes to sit on the edge of the counter.

“Sure I am. I asked him for a nice pair of sunglasses so he better pull through for me,” Harry replies, a small smile on his lips when he speaks.

Louis feels oddly cold all over, like something’s missing from this moment. “Probably will, knowing Niall.”

Harry nods, opening the bag of items Louis bought. Louis makes no attempts to stop him. First come the bottles of wine which he deposits into the fridge, next the bag of crisps, but it’s not until he reaches the magazine does Harry stop entirely. He lays it onto the top of the counter, brows furrowed where he’s mostly staring at it for the most part.

“Bit of light reading?” he asks. Louis shrugs.

“Thought this was how we’d have to keep in touch with him from now on,” Louis says.

Harry starts flipping through the pages, smirking every so often and shaking his head. The mug of tea is going cold beside him, the steam lessening from the top of it as he shifts a little where he’s sitting. Louis only catches small bits of sentences or phrases there, things like ‘ _from a small town in Mullingar_ ’ or ‘ _I like someone who’s cute but also sexy, you know?_ ’ and it’s enough for him to feel a little ill. 

“Right, well, that’s rubbish. Shouldn’t be reading that,” Harry decides after a few minutes, opening the trash bin and tossing it inside as Louis makes a small noise of protest.

Louis pushes himself off the counter, setting his still-full mug into the sink. “Thanks for waiting up. You didn’t have to, though,” he says finally.

“Wanted to. See you in the morning, Lou.”

He watches Harry go, slow steps and yawning into the back of his hand, until he resumes his position curled up next to Liam on the couch. When Louis is sure he hears Harry’s faint snoring from the living room, he slowly reaches into the trash bin, which is empty for the most part, save for a few wrappers, and he takes out the magazine. Without another thought he goes into his room, tosses it onto his desk, and closes the door behind him, before crawling into bed, closing his eyes for a short three hours of sleep before he’s got to get up for his placement.

Focusing intently on sleep, all he can really seem to think about is what time it is in Los Angeles, and what Niall could be possibly doing right now.

—

The next week is essentially hell on earth. He’s got three papers to write for his classes, evaluations for his lessons at his placement, not to mention Christmas shopping and his part time job on the side. It’s enough to make Louis want to scream.

“Why don’t you take the night off?” Zayn suggests one evening when they’re watching television, Louis editing his paper in a small chair by the window.

He glances up, as if maybe for a moment Zayn’s lost his mind. “And what, these lesson plans and papers will magically write themselves?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, unamused. “C’mon, Louis. Just one night. I’m sure Harry and Liam would love to go out and do something instead of sit inside huddled in front of a laptop.”

Louis pauses, considering. He is almost done with his third paper, and he’s only got two lesson plans to make up for this upcoming week. Not to mention he could really use a night that isn’t in this flat, which somehow feels to be getting smaller with each passing day. 

“If Harry and Liam say yes, then I’ll come.”

Zayn gets a text within the next ten minutes: _Yes pleeeeeeeeease. Karaoke? .x_ and Louis laughs a little. Looks like they’re going out tonight.

“I don’t remember this place being so —”

“Run-down? Dirty?” Louis finishes Liam’s sentence for him, glancing around the dimly lit bar. 

Zayn elbows him, rolling his eyes. They pick a booth near the back. It’s pretty full, people starting to fill up the bar. Harry grins from where he’s sitting across from Louis. “I think it’s great. Much better view than a twenty page research paper,” he comments.

It probably wouldn’t be so weird if this wasn’t the bar Niall always wanted to go to, refusing to go anywhere else for karaoke and dragging the four of them along with him. Louis doesn’t think about it; instead glances over toward the bar where he catches sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. 

“Say, Zayn. You didn’t tell me Perrie got a job here,” Louis says, his voice perhaps a little too loud. 

Zayn’s head snaps up from where he’d been previously preoccupied with some sort of engraving on the table. His cheeks flush. “I, um. I didn’t know she — works here,” he says finally, blinking.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Go get us some drinks, unless you want Louis to do it for you…” he starts, but Zayn’s already standing up, giving a look to Louis as he walks up toward the bar.

Maybe this will be good, Louis thinks as he leans back against the green padding of the booth. Maybe this is just what he needs, a night out and nothing to think about except what song he’s going to sing up on that small stage when Harry inevitably drags him up there with him. 

Their table is littered with carvings and other types of graffiti, mostly names and hearts drawn around one another with a few sappy lyrics written throughout. Louis studies them for awhile, finger tracing a few of them until he hears Liam arguing with Harry from across the table about God knows what, really.

When he looks up however the argument has stopped, instead replaced with Harry leaving sloppy kisses on Liam’s neck, Liam giggling loudly and making no attempts to stop him. Louis watchers for a moment, considers a way to impale himself with the salt shaker, and then Zayn appears, kicking at Harry until the two finally pull apart. 

“How’s Pez?” Louis asks, grinning as Zayn glares toward him.

“Don’t call her that,” he snaps, handing him a beer. “She’s also fine, thanks for asking. Just started working here about a week ago.”

“Funny how you’ve done nothing but want to come to this bar for about a week now,” Louis says, taking a sip as Harry laughs and says, “Ever since she quit working at that diner you used to always make us go to?”

“A happy coincidence, that’s all,” Zayn says, though the blush on his cheeks is a rather obvious giveaway at this point.

“Whatever you say, Malik,” Louis says with a wink. 

Harry makes a comment about the mould on the ceiling to which Zayn tells him to fuck himself, that this a nice establishment, which leads to Liam asking if he should sit between the two of them. Louis watches, amused, tipping his bottle toward his mouth once more. Yeah, he could get used to this.

The night carries on, Harry talking loudly and waving his hands about, Liam listening intently, and Louis taking any opportunity to kick Harry from underneath the table. Zayn spends a good portion of his night at the bar, chatting with Perrie and being horribly obvious as Louis starts in on what he thinks to be his fifth beer. Possibly his sixth, he’s not quite sure honestly at this rate.

But it’s not until karaoke starts around eleven does Louis possibly regret going out tonight. A young woman makes her way toward the stage, microphone in hand and she grins, waving her hand enthusiastically. “My name is Jade and you all might know this song, it’s by a new up and coming popstar from around this neck of the woods —” she begins talking loudly, her voice ringing throughout the entire bar.

Louis feels himself tense; knows Harry, Liam and Zayn are staring at him but he keeps his eyes focused on Jade, apparently, as she introduced herself. “This song is called Carry Me On by Niall Horan!”

The music is playing and Louis feels an uncomfortable warmth start at the back of his neck, spreading down his back as sets down his nearly finished bottle. “I’m um — going to take a breath of fresh air,” he excuses himself, scrambling to get out of the booth and toward the doors as he tries to walk as steady as he can.

He hopes and prays none of them follow him, opening the door and feeling the rush of cold air come over him. Louis stands there, watching a few cars drive past and he closes his eyes, trying to regain some sense of steadiness as he leans against a streetlamp. 

It’s fucking cold, he soon realizes as he shoves a hand into his pocket. His head is spinning when he takes out a cigarette, a pack stuffed there from a few weeks back when he and Zayn had gotten them after a particularly long night of Harry singing karaoke. There’s a lighter in his other pocket, taking a few tries to finally get it to light as he inhales. And fuck, it’s not helping. He’s still fucking cold and freaking the fuck out, standing in the street and pretty drunk. Louis stares off down the street, thinking that maybe he should walk home. It’s only a ten minute walk it’s not like it’s too terribly long. He can make it.

Checking for his keys which are secure in his coat he sends Zayn a text _wakling home met u there_ before he thumbs through his contacts, trying to stay upright on his feet. And he shouldn’t, staring at a certain name in particular he tosses half his cigarette onto the sidewalk, stomping in it before continuing to walk toward his flat.

He should put the phone away and not talk about it, like he’s done for almost six fucking months. But instead he hits call, putting the phone to his ear. It rings once, twice, until —

“ _Hello?_ ”

“You know, you still owe me a beer, if I do recall. Because I got Harry to sing that Miley Cyrus song, you remember?” Louis is only realizing now how drunk he is, listening to his words slur together when he talks.

“ _Louis?_ ” Niall asks, “ _are you drunk?_ ”

“A little,” Louis says, making a small gesture with his thumb and forefinger. Though it’s not like Niall can see it anyway. “I’m walking home. It’s fucking cold. Is it cold in Los Angeles?”

“ _No, not particularly. It was pretty hot today actually,_ ” Niall says.

It’s starting to snow, dusting the sidewalk and Louis wants to laugh but also cry at the same time. “I’m really mad at you, you know? Just up and leaving me like that. You’re supposed to be here, Ni. With me. With us.”

Unlike their last phone conversation there’s no noise in the background, Louis thinks. He shouldn’t have called. He’s got hardly any filter when he is, hopefully truthful, as Harry tells him. 

“ _I know. I know and I’m sorry — I’ve told you I’m sorry, haven’t I?_ ”

He has apologized on a few occasions, not that Louis could name them off in his hazy mind right now, but he knows Niall has. “You have. But you’re still not here, which doesn’t change a whole hell of a lot does it?”

“ _Are you walking alone? How far are you from you from your flat?_ ” Niall sounds concerned. Niall doesn’t get to sound concerned. Not when he’s halfway across the fucking world.

“I’ll be fine,” Louis says sharply, wincing when he does. He’s never sharp with Niall, has never had any real need to be. “You know what I think I realized?”

“ _What, Lou?_ ”

“Nothing really makes sense when you’re not here.”

And he wants Niall to say something, anything. “ _Can I — can we talk about this later? When it’s not five in the morning here and you’re sober?_ ”

“Right, yeah. When I’m less drunk,” Louis says, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“ _I’ll text you okay? Get some sleep,_ ” Niall says, his voice quiet.

“Bye, Niall.”

He hangs up his phone, reaching the door to his flat less than five minutes later, Louis unlocking the door and heading straight for the toilet. Somewhere between getting sick and trying to make tea he ends up on the couch, knees to his chest when he hears the door open. Harry’s the first one by his side, brushing some hair from his forehead while he and Liam help Louis into bed. 

“I called him,” Louis admits before Harry leaves, watching him pause in the doorway.

“Get some sleep babe,” Harry says softly before turning off the light, closing the door and Louis doesn’t think about anything except how warm his bed is, pulling the comforter nearly over his head and letting his eyes close.

_niall._

The thing is, Louis has always sucked at texting. If it’s something important that needs an immediate answer he claims he ‘cannot be held accountable for not replying to Harry’s questioning of if they need milk or butter because he was napping and/or watching a movie and had somehow lost his phone somewhere between his bedroom and the couch’. 

Basically if you text Louis, you should at least have a window or two to three hours when waiting for a response. But it’s been almost three days, which should show signs for concern.

“You coming out tonight?” Ed asks from where Niall’s been staring at his phone expectantly.

“Dunno,” Niall replies, locking the screen as he puts it back into his pocket. “I have a bit more writing to do, so.”

“Bullshit. You’ve got everything cleared and ready to go. Now c’mon, Olly wants you to come out. Says you’ve been neglecting him all week,” Ed presses, “you don’t have to stay long. Two hours, tops.”

Niall sighs, shaking his head because it’s a losing battle that he can’t win. “Sure, fine. I’ll come. Two hours though, I’m holding you too it,” he says, pointing a finger toward Ed.

It doesn’t take long to get his things together, a few of his items littered throughout the recording studio where he’s finished what he needs to get done before his flight home in a few days. Zayn said he’d pick up Niall from his flight at six in the morning which he’s still a bit skeptical on. But if Zayn said he’d come he isn’t going to question it.

Ed’s car is at the end of the parking lot, getting into the front seat. Niall pulls out his phone once more. “Heard from anyone back home much?” Ed asks, pulling out of the spot and onto the road.

“Kind of, yeah. Harry called me the other day so I talked to him and Liam a bit. And Zayn’s been texting me,” Niall replies, resting his phone in his lap.

“And Louis?”

Niall’s first reaction is to get mad, for some reason, because why the hell would Ed bring Louis up? He sinks lower in the seat, watching the busy streets of Los Angeles pass him by while he taps on the glass of the window.

“Fine I guess. He called me the other day when he was drunk at the bar with the rest of them,” Niall answers.

“He called you while he was drunk?” Ed asks in response, keeping his eyes on the road as he turns left.

“It’s not unusual for Louis to get drunk,” Niall defends, though he hardly knows why he’s defending Louis at this point.

“No I meant —” Ed pauses, sighing. “What did he say?”

“Said he missed me I guess, I don’t really know.”

And that’s mostly true. Their conversation hadn’t been really coherent for the most part.

Ed doesn’t say anything else, the rest of the ride quiet until they pull into the parking lot for a building Niall doesn’t recognize when his phone buzzes from his lap. It’s Louis.

_dont know if i can skype this sunday, got a date! maybe saturday?_

Niall pauses, reading and rereading to make sure he’d gotten the information properly. A date? Louis on a date? His mouth suddenly feels dry, getting out of the car he hardly even registers the name of the bar they’re at. He tells Ed he’ll be inside in a minute, taking out his phone and dials a number on the keypad.

“ _Harry speaking,_ ” they answer and Niall would smile if he wasn’t freaking the fuck out right about now.

“Harry? It’s um — it’s me,” Niall says, leaning his forehead against the wall of the building.

“ _Niall? Holy fuck I’m — hold on I’m just — Liam, no God, I’m just going outside give me one second — oh my God stop, you menace, I’ll be right back!_ ” There’s a bit of movement and cursing in the background before it quiets down once more and Harry’s speaking again, “ _to what do I owe the pleasure, popstar?_ ”

He grimaces at the nick name. “Is Louis going on a date?”

“ _Shit, Niall, how did you even know that you’re in fucking LA of all places —_ ”

“He texted me, told me he couldn’t talk to me because he had a date,” Niall explains, hoping that is all some weirdly vivid bad, bad dream.

“ _No it’s um, this guy he knows at his placement, I guess? I don’t know apparently they have a few classes together, or something. He hasn’t said much about it really. But it’s just a date, nothing too serious._ ”

“You don’t have to sugar coat it, Harry. He’s going on a fucking date. When have we ever known Louis to go on a proper, real date before?”

“ _It’s not like he’s doing this to hurt you or anything, you know._ ”

Now Niall wants to laugh. “You’re sure about that?”

He can imagine Harry standing in his small flat, most likely in something ridiculous like one of his overly large plaid shirts and boxers with a headband haphazardly around his head, a big sort of frown on his face. 

“ _You guys never — I mean you guys never really made anything official, remember? And you know Louis, chances are it’s a one time thing and he’s just trying it out,_ ” Harry tells him.

“Right, sure,” Niall says skeptically, “I’m sorry to call like this.”

“ _Nonsense. Always good to hear from you,_ ” Harry reassures him. “ _I should go though. Can’t leave Liam unsupervised for too long._ ” 

“I guess I’ll see you in two weeks?”

“ _Zayn’s marked it on the calendar. Twice. So I doubt I’ll miss it even if I do somehow manage to let it slip my mind._ ”

“Thanks, Haz.”

“ _And Niall? Don’t — stress too much, about this. Okay?_ ”

“Sure. I’ll talk to you later.”

“ _Bye, Niall._ ”

He hangs up his phone, putting it back into his coat where it sits almost like a weight for the rest of the night, his text from Louis unanswered while he drinks his beer and listens to Olly talk about how he has to buy a new guitar this week. It’s nothing, just like Harry had told him. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

_louis._

His name is Clark and Louis is fairly certain he’s the most boring person he’s ever encountered. All they’ve discussed so far is their placements, how much Clark loves teaching phys. ed, and the consistency of the coffee in the staff room (to watery was the consensus in the end, a thrilling end to that conversation). 

And it might be because Louis put too many expectations on this date to be something great and spectacular because he’s always thought that Clark was fit, so it all should’ve worked out well and good except it isn’t and Louis doesn’t understand why. He’s bored and he’s spent half his meal separating it into different sections and reading the random texts Harry’s been sending him all night since Liam’s gone home and Louis is out so, all he can really think to do is text Louis, apparently.

_Loooooouis can I have some of your crisps?_

_Okay no response I’m taking that as a yes .x_

_That fit comedian you like is on tv though honestly I don’t know what you see in him_

_Wil Anderson? He doesn’t even have two l’s that’s so confusing_

_I ate your crisps I’ll buy you more next week promise :)_

His phone keeps constantly buzzing, proving to be quite distracting from where it’s placed beside his plate on the table. He picks it up, putting it into his pocket. Clark laughs, quietly. 

“Sorry. My flatmate is a little lonely because no one else is home with him right now,” Louis explains, waving his hand to try and make it seem like it’s no big thing. 

“That’s fine,” Clark says easily, taking another bite of his salmon. Louis should’ve gotten the salmon. His lemon chicken is to fucking dry. “What does he do? Your flatmate?”

“Not a lot, honestly. He mostly hangs out at home with his boyfriend, Liam. He wants to work in a art gallery, or something? It starts with a c —”

“Curator?” Clark offers, wiping a bit of sauce off the corner of his mouth. “And I think they work in museums, actually.”

“Right, sure,” Louis replies. He didn’t come on this date to get a fucking lecture he came for a free dinner and a chance to stare at Clark’s beautiful face which, Louis thinks might not even be that beautiful.

When Clark excuses himself to go to the bathroom Louis takes out his phone, keeping his eyes toward the doors as he dials a number. 

“ _If this about your crisps I said I’d buy you more before you start biting my head off —_ ”

“I need to leave. Now. This date is so fucking awful I am seriously considering stabbing myself with this knife, Harold.”

“ _Don’t do that. I don’t think they staff there would appreciate it,_ ” Harry replies, sounding hardly concerned at the impending threat when he talks. “ _Would be a lot to clean up, I imagine._ ”

“Now is not the time to be a smart ass,” Louis snaps, shifting in his chair. Christ, even these fucking chairs are uncomfortable. Everything about this date is uncomfortable. 

“ _What do you want me to do? Come in there and take you home?_ ”

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I want you to do. Pretend Liam’s dumped you, or something, or that your cat died —”

“ _We promised we wouldn’t joke about that, Louis, that was a traumatic day when she died —_ ”

“He’s coming back from the bathroom just, get here. Please. I’ll buy you crisps for the next month if you do,” Louis all but pleads before he hangs up before Clark can catch sight of him talking on his phone. 

When he sits back down Louis glances to his phone, reading a text that says _Barbeque crisps and you fucking owe me, Tomlinson_.

So he sits back in his chair, and waits. While he waits Clark explains to him the merits of exercising and eating well and Louis half listens, smiling and nodding when he’s supposed to because it’s going to take Harry at least ten or fifteen minutes to get there, depending on traffic. Also depending on how long it takes him to get on those goddamn pants of his. 

Oh, god. Louis is going to die. Clark begins in on describing how the variations of different shades of greens in vegetables and how the darker the shade, the more healthy they are for you, apparently. 

There’s an offer of staying for dessert and possibly going to a local park for a walk when Louis catches sight of Harry entering the restaurant. He all but sighs with relief when Harry approaches their table, keys in his hand and his eyes puffy and looking as though he’s been crying the whole ride here. Louis wants to applaud but doesn’t, instead putting a look of true concern on his face when Clark turns around and notices Harry standing there.

“Harry what are you doing here —” Louis starts but he’s cut off.

“Liam he, he broke up with me. Called me from his mum’s and I didn’t know what to do so I came here and I don’t know what’s going on because we’ve been together for almost three years, Louis —” Harry’s voice is cracking and bravo to him, really, Louis is altogether very impressed by this whole performance.

“Oh my God, Liam — did he really break up with you?” Louis asks, trying to sound shocked when Harry nods, wincing his eyes for dramatic effect. Perhaps a bit too much but they can talk about that later. In the car, preferably, when they’re on their way back to the flat and out of this fucking restaurant. “Clark I’m sorry but I should, you know, go.”

“What, right now?” Clark asks, looking between Harry then Louis.

“Well I mean, look at him. He’s a little, y’know, distraught. A proper mess. I need to get him home and cleaned up with a good movie and a bottle of wine. Maybe several,” Louis looks at Clark, softening his features before taking his hand, briefly. “We’ll reschedule, yeah? I’m sorry I just — I need to go.”

“No, no, I understand,” Clark says, though it’s hardly convincing. Harry sniffles from beside him. 

“I’ll call you!” Louis promises leaving Clark, and presumably the bill at the table as him and Harry rush outside toward the car he’s parked down the street. “I love you, did you know that? Truly. I adore you, Harry Styles, my knight in plaid armour.” 

“Get in the car,” Harry orders. “We’re going to get crisps.”

Louis nods. He checks his phone once more, pausing only when he sees another text from Niall. _Skype sometime later maybe ? Im going ot be up doing work anyway_  
He doesn’t answer, instead starting to bicker with Harry between what radio station to play because Louis will be damned if he’s forced to listen to Miley Cyrus another fucking time.

Louis wins, eventually, though Niall’s text is still in the back of his mind all the drive home.

_niall._

He’s pretty sure he forgot an extra pair of socks. Also his toothbrush. Not to mention the Christmas gift he’d bought for his mother, which is still sitting on the bench by his front door. Paired up with the fact that he’s exhausted, jetlagged and Zayn isn’t picking up his phone is altogether a rather terrible combination at this ungodly time in the morning.

Harry isn’t picking up either. Niall sighs, loudly, drinking his watery coffee he’d purchased at the only place open in the airport while he stares at his phone. He could take a cab but something about that seems so wrong, somehow.

So he tries another number, his last attempt before calling the local cab company.

“ _It’s six fifty three in the fucking morning who are you, Satan?_ ”

“Louis? I’m so sorry to call this early and I know it’s your only day off during the week but um, Zayn forgot about me.”

There’s a sound like someone falling out of bed and then, “ _are you fucking kidding me don’t fuck around Niall._ ”

“I’m not?” he replies, feeling guilty. He rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “I can ask Harry or something if it’s too much trouble —”

“ _Don’t be an idiot, Ni. I want to see you. I’ll text you when I leave,_ ” Louis tells him, leaving no time for Niall to argue before hanging up.

Right well, sure, fine. That should go swimmingly considering all the weird tension that’s built up between them in the past few months. They could always talk about Louis’ date last week or how the weather in Los Angeles is but he has a feeling that neither of those conversations would go over well. Other than that, he can’t imagine what Louis would want to talk about with Niall anymore. Before he left it seemed they never ran out of things to talk about, always being told by Harry or Zayn to shut up on the random occasion but not since he left. 

_on my way!! zayn says he’s sorry and he’ll make it up to you! be there in 15_

The airport is empty for the most part as he goes back toward the small coffee shop, ordering a blueberry muffin as he accepts the small bag when the girl extends it toward him. On his way out he tosses the cup into the garbage bin before walking back toward his seat. 

It’s a little more than ten minutes when his phone goes off again, his screen reading: _first parking lot!!!! :) :) :)_ and Niall feels himself exhale a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

A little concerned about the amount of smiley faces he’s using so early in the morning Niall takes his bags and heads out to parking lot one, apparently, as he squints his eyes in the early morning sun. It’s cold, fucking cold, and he soon realizes that he’s not used to this sort of weather anymore while he pulls his jacket tighter with his free hand.

He’s about halfway through the parking lot when he hears Louis’ voice above the wind calling his name in a loud “Niall! Over here!” in a way that only Louis could.

And any sort of worries or concerns he’d been thinking about a few moments ago instantly fade as he drops his bags to the ground and rushes toward Louis, arms extended and embracing him as soon as Niall’s within reach.

They stand there for a while, arms wrapped tight in the cold morning air. He feels Louis breathe out, his stubble rubbing against the skin of Niall’s neck while he moves. “Good to have you back,” Louis says as Niall smiles, big and wide in response.

“Thank you for getting up so early to come and get me,” Niall replies when they step apart, letting Louis take one of his bags as they walk back toward the car. Louis doesn’t say anything in response, instead gently bumping his shoulder into Niall’s own.

The window’s are tainted with a bit of frost along the edges, the car not yet really warm as they get inside once the bags are packed into the trunk of Harry’s car. 

“Did you eat?” Louis asks, backing out of the parking space. He’s wearing an old sweater, the sleeves long and extending past his hands. Probably one of Harry’s. Niall nods. 

“Had a muffin at the airport. The coffee was shit though,” he replies and Louis grins, slapping his thigh briefly.

“Good. Then we’re going to get some real breakfast in you and go back to my flat and nap. Then possibly find Zayn and have a lengthy conversation with him about early mornings and promises,” Louis suggests. Niall laughs because it’s always so easy to laugh with Louis, even after everything.

He doesn’t ask where Louis is going as they take off down the still familiar streets, the radio playing some top forty song with Louis humming to himself most of the way. And it would be weird, the silence that’s settled between them but it’s somehow comforting and familiar all at once that Niall doesn’t bother breaking it, instead leaning back against his seat and holding his hands up where the hot air is blowing from a small vent.

They pull up into a small diner about half a mile from the airport, the sign reading ‘ _Come In, We’re Open!_ ’ hanging from the door as Louis parks in a spot nearest to the door. 

Their waitress, Heather, is nice enough and she brings them coffee that’s actually drinkable. They order (Louis with his usual stack of pancakes with side of extra bacon, Niall the eggs sampler with also a side of extra bacon) as they sit across from one another, hands folded on the table. Niall clears his throat.

“How was your flight?” Louis finally asks, not so subtly takes one of Niall’s pieces of bacon.

“Fine. Long. The bathroom broke down halfway through though, which sucked,” Niall says. Louis snorts, loudly.

“Good Christ,” Louis says from where he’s presently attempting to cut through his massive pile of pancakes. “Any good movies playing at least?”

“Not even. All they played was that movie with the dragons? The one Harry’s obsessed with.”

“How to Train Your Dragon, or whatever. God. He made us watch that for three months straight, you remember?”

Niall smiles, though it feels more so like a weird pain in his chest when he remembers they’ve probably had more movies nights without him. More nights of Harry forcing them to watch ridiculous movies and Liam agreeing with Harry, Louis complaining loudly throughout the entire duration of the film and Zayn occasionally throwing bits of popcorn in his hair to get him to shut up. 

The price you pay for moving, he supposes. 

“Of course I remember, we watched it two weekends in a row,” Niall replies as Louis shakes his head.

Somewhere between coffee and reminiscing Louis’ foot wraps around his ankle and Niall makes no attempt to move it, instead letting it stay there and telling himself that it’s nothing. Just a little extra warmth in this otherwise cold diner.

— 

The next few days are surprisingly normal. It’s almost like he never left, sleeping on the couch in Harry and Louis’ living room and waking up to Harry making breakfast in his underwear almost every morning.

“Bread?” Niall asks, reading off a slip of paper where he’s pushing a grocery cart in front of him.

“Check,” Harry replies, his hand guiding the front of the cart while he walks.

“Peanut butter?”

“Check.”

“Broccoli?” 

“Check.”

“Toliet paper?”

A pause. “Shit. Almost forgot that,” Harry says, pulling them down onto the next aisle. 

They first went to the market early in the morning because neither Louis or Liam wanted to go with him (which doesn’t come as a surprise, honestly) and since Niall’s still rather jetlagged he decided to go with, though is probably more so now regretting it as he feels his eyes starting to get heavy. They’re going through different brands of toilet paper (Harry’s, “this one says it’s soft as cashmere, Ni,” and Niall’s, “it also almost costs about half your rent,”) when there’s a small tug on the end of his coat.

He turns, finding a younger girl and what he assumes to be her sister standing in front of him. A few feet away he can see their mother smiling at him and oh, right. Harry’s looking at him now, not saying anything as he watches, holding a package of toilet paper in his arms. 

“Hi there,” Niall says, smiling widely as he crouches down to see them properly. “What are you names?”

“I’m Maggie,” the older one introduces, her voice shaking only a little. “And this is my little sister, Lucy.”

“Nice to meet you Maggie and Lucy,” Niall tells them, shaking their hands.

“We were wondering, Niall, sir —” He hears Harry laugh quietly somewhere behind him. “If we could get your autograph?”

“Course you can,” Niall answers easily, being handed two old receipts and a pen reading _Greg James Law Offices_ where he signs his name on the back.

 _To Maggie and Lucy, keep smiling! Niall Horan_. He still doesn’t have a grip on the whole autograph thing, apparently, he thinks to himself as he hands them back the papers. And when he stands Maggie rushes back to her mother but Lucy pauses, looking back to Niall before wrapping her arms around his legs, the only part of him she can really reach.

Niall rubs her back briefly, “it was nice meeting you Lucy,” he tells her gently. She grins up at him before going back toward her mother, waving her now signed receipts in her hands when she does.

“Ah the life of the rich and famous. Amazing how that is, considering you’re sleeping on my couch,” Harry comments. Niall kicks his foot.

“Fuck off,” he replies. Harry gasps.

“Are you going to let Maggie and Lucy hear you talking like that?” he asks, grinning as he tosses the package into the cart. 

Niall doesn’t say anything, instead rolling his eyes and directing Harry toward a checkout.

_louis._

_@NiallOfficial: So good to be with friends for teh week ! Me n Harry just got back from the store ! what are u all up too ?_

Louis isn’t stalking Niall’s twitter when Niall’s sitting in his living room, because that would be ridiculous. He might, however, have pretended to still be asleep when they’d gotten home so he could hide out in his room a little longer and stalk Niall’s twitter in peace which, is decidedly a little strange. 

_@NIALLSGIRL: who’s ur best friend right now niall?????_

_@NiallOfficial: @NIALLSGIRL Probably Louis ! He’s a great lad ! Been mates for almost four years now !_

He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning when he reads over the tweet again. He types in Niall’s twitter handle in a search bar near the top, finding proclamations of love and various other proposals littered throughout as he scrolls through for a few minutes. 

_@niallsbaby: How long are you home for Niall? :)_

_@NiallOfficial: @niallsbaby A week with friends in London then home with my family for christmas ! So excited !_

Louis nearly snorts, stopping himself as he shakes his head. 

_@_niallluver_: IS IT TRUE YOU’RE DOING A SONG WITH JUSTIN BIEBER??????????!_

_@NiallOfficial: @_niallluver_ An irishman never tells his secrets ! Sorry luv ! ;)_

“Justin Bieber? Really?” Louis asks as soon as he leaves his room, both Harry and Niall looking up at him where they’re sitting on the couch in front of the television.

“Been looking through my twitter?” Niall asks, eyebrows raised. Louis shrugs.

“Can’t prove anything. But still, you could do better,” Louis says as he makes his way into the kitchen.

There’s water already boiled so he makes himself a mug of tea, taking out a bowl and milk for some cereal. He’s still tired, somehow, after getting almost ten hours of sleep as he finds a grocery bag on the counter. Apparently Harry went shopping, which would explain Niall’s tweet. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Harry calls from the living room.

“Dunno. Why?”

“We were thinking about going out for a few drinks because it’s Niall’s last night here,” Harry says.

Louis pauses where he’s pouring some milk into his bowl, leaning against the counter. “No karoke,” he bargains. 

He doesn’t need to see it to know Harry’s pouting from where he’s sitting in the living room. “Fine. But then you’re buying the first round.”

“Deal.”

And that settles it, then.

Liam almost doesn’t come on account that he’s still mad at Louis for forcing Harry to make them fake breakup to get him out of a bad date. Apparently he’s uncomfortable with Louis using them breaking up as a method for him to get out of bad dates though in Louis’ defense he’s only been on one date in almost half a year, so it’s not like this will become a regular occurrence. 

If anything, Louis had pointed out, Liam should be more offended that Harry was so willing to fake break up their relationship for a month’s supply of barbeque crisps.

Regardless, Liam came with anyway, refusing to sit near Louis and pouting into Harry’s shoulder for a good portion for the night. Which is amusing anyway, so it’s not like he’s complaining. 

“I don’t remember Perrie ever working here,” Niall says where he’s beside Louis, either by some fluke or serious scheming on Harry’s part.

“Ah, yes. That’s a new development. All part of the swooning process of Zayn Malik you see,” Louis explains, a foot kicking him in the shin. He winces. 

“Is it working?” Niall asks, though Zayn’s too preoccupied with trying to kick off Louis’ leg to answer.

“I think so. Said she’d go on a date with you didn’t she?” Louis asks. Zayn grunts. “I think that’s a yes.”

Harry’s sipping on his coke because he’s designated driver, seemingly rather content with the lime placed on the edge of his cup and claiming it makes him a ‘a real adult’, whatever that means. Louis leans back in his seat, feeling Niall’s warmth beside him as he takes in a deep breath. It’s fine. They’ve gotten along rather well all week, though that’s mostly because he’s avoided any and all moments that would make it just the two of them. It’s easier that way, Louis had decided. No awkward or weird confrontation, no questions and no figuring what the fuck they’re doing.

It’s better this way. Less stressful. Possibly makes him a bit of a dick but he can’t be bothered to worry about that, really. Niall’s leaving soon anyway, going back to put out his album and make a music video or something. Because he lives in Los Angeles now and he’s only here to visit, something that Louis has had to come to terms with this past week. It’s just a visit. No reason to get too attached, to make things how they used to be. What’s the point? Niall’s going to be getting back onto that plane and halfway across the world again.

“How about you then, popstar?” Harry starts and Louis holds back the urge to groan. “Any romances on the horizon? There was that article that you were with that model, what’s her name? Barbara?” Harry asks. Louis wants to throttle him.

“No, nothing really. Too busy recording. Ed’s a bit of a hardass for that sort of thing, and it’s not like I have a lot of time for anything else,” Niall answers with a shrug.

Louis clears his throat, leaning back as he glances out toward the bar. He doesn’t particularly care about the status of Niall’s love life, would much rather focus on finishing his drink instead. So he takes a long, extended sip and chooses to ignore the concerned look Liam is giving him from across the booth.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Louis says, interrupting Harry and Niall’s decidedly pointless discussion. “Anyone want anything?”

Niall stares at him. Harry puts up his hand for another coke, “with another lime wedge please. I quite like it.”

“Right. Another coke for the apparent five year old in the corner of the booth. Got it.”

Louis makes it to the bar, but he’s far too distracted and not drunk enough to deal with any of this right now so instead he makes a clean break for the bathroom. It’s empty when he gets in, locking himself in the stall as he closes his eyes and counts backwards from ten. That’s what he used to do with his mum when he was particularly stressed about something. Just count back from ten and breathe deep she’d tell him, her voice calm and always soothing.

Because fuck it, Niall can date who he wants. Louis shouldn’t be reacting this way. He should be happy for him, congratulating him on his new life and his new record. But yet he can’t bring himself to do anything except get angry. 

“Louis?”

He’s hardly been in here for five minutes when a voice comes, careful and quiet. Louis half expected Harry to be the one to follow him in here, possibly Zayn. But instead he’s greeted with Niall’s voice, the bathroom door closing behind him.

“I just need a minute,” Louis says finally, rubbing his hands along his face.

“Why don’t you just talk to me? Because we used to do that, you know. Talk. Used to do it a lot,” Niall says and it sounds a bit too much like an accusation than anything. 

“You wanna talk? What are we gonna talk about?” Louis asks from where he’s now opened the stall door. “Let’s talk about how you moved to Los Angeles. Let’s talk about how I never see you anymore. Let’s talk about how you fucking left.”

Niall laughs, which. Wasn’t the response he’d been looking for. “You could be happy for me, ever thought of that? Who was the one who told me to not pass this up? Who helped me find a plane ticket when Ed called me to offer me a record deal?” Louis swallows, feeling a lump beginning to grow in his throat. “Oh, right. That was you. Imagine that.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me,” Louis snaps, feeling suddenly cold as he rubs his arms. 

“What’s this really about then?”

There’s a large mirror in the bathroom, showing the both of them and for a moment Louis wonders how it got to this. To Niall’s face contorted with anger, to Louis hunched just a little, arms wrapped around himself with a weird sort of agony contorting his face. So, so unlike them. Unlike them on their nights they’d get drunk together and walk home to Louis’ flat, arms entangled and singing loudly with one another. With Niall teaching his traditional Irish tunes, the snow falling but neither of them really caring.

And Louis hates it. Hates it because this isn’t them. So he does the first thing that comes to mind. He kisses Niall. 

It’s rough and messy and a little desperate, and for a moment Louis is worried when he doesn’t feel Niall respond until —

“Christ, Louis,” he breathes before biting down on his lower lip and it all becomes a hot, haze in Louis’ mind.

And, God. He’s missed Niall. Missed how he tastes, how he knows exactly to get Louis’ mouth open with a simple touch of his tongue around his lips. How Niall pushes him up against the door of the stall, hands on Louis’ waist and sending a wave of heat through him. He can’t help the small, high pitched noise that leaves his lips when Niall begins to suck on a bit of skin on his neck, his lips warm and chapped and sending a shiver through Louis in response.

“Niall —” Louis all but gasps when he feels his hand on his already half hard cock.

“Wanna suck you off. That okay?” Niall asks, breathless and almost gasping when he whispers the words.

Louis nods. He nods because he’s not sure he can remember how to speak anymore when they take a step back into the stall, locking the door once more and not even thinking about the chipped paint along the walls. Instead all he can focus on is Niall kissing him again, this time with more intent, not as messy as he pushes his tongue into Louis’ mouth. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, Niall’s hand is on his cock again and it’s hard to believe any of this is really happening.

But Niall’s a bit of tease, which is something Louis had conveniently forgotten. A fucking tease that Louis would like to get on with it, please. He whines and whimpers but it’s no use because Niall’s only working him up, nipping along his jawline and applying pressure to his jeans and fuck Jesus Christ Almighty in heaven, Louis is going to kill him. After Niall blows him, Louis is going to kill him. If Niall ever blows him. Louis whines.

“Can you —” Louis says, catching Niall’s lips briefly with his own. “Get on with it?”

Niall hums, the little fuck, against the skin of his collarbone. “Patience is a virtue, isn’t it?” he asks and he’s actually smirking. Louis cannot believe this.

“You’re such a dick,” Louis says, but then Niall’s pulling down his pants and has his hand around the base of Louis’ cock. He sucks in a sharp breath. Message received, apparently. 

It takes all his strength not to buckle his knees when Niall’s tongue is on the tip of his cock before he sucks, just a little, and Louis might come right then and there he’s nearly spent as it is. But instead he leans his head back, closing his eyes until he feels a little pinch at the skin of his thighs.

“Didn’t do this so you could have your eyes closed, Louis. This is a proper show,” Niall says, perhaps a bit too smug while he licks along Louis’ dick and oh, God.

“A proper — show — you — _asshole_ —” Louis repeats, another wave of heat running through him when Niall bobs his head and Jesus fuck, it’s too good. Almost too good to be true.

Niall’s got his hands braced on his thighs, lips moving up Louis’ dick and they’re wet and warm and it’s hot, hot, hot Louis isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. He’s moving up and down again, taking Louis in and Niall looks so good, his cheeks flushed and for right now, it’s hard to remember anything else besides this. Louis gently tugs at his hair, giving him a warning because he’s going to come but Niall doesn’t move, instead taking him in once more and oh, fuck. Louis feels himself hit the back of Niall’s throat, his vision blurring and he wants to stay right here, in this moment, and not leave.

Niall’s laughing a little when Louis slumps to the floor, wiping his mouth as he grins. “How was that then?” 

Louis flicks at his arm, watching him wince in response. “It was alright, y’know. Nothing to brag about on your part I don’t think,” he says. He’s lying.

“Guess I need to step up my game,” Niall replies, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“I would’ve thought going to Los Angeles would’ve helped with that,” Louis says, voice muffled by the fact that Niall’s still kissing him. 

Harry’s singing karoke outside but Louis quite frankly doesn’t give a fuck, not really, not when Niall’s his tongue shoved halfway down his throat. 

And maybe they can stay here forever. Or just for tonight, maybe. 

—

“You should talk to him,” Harry says quietly when they’re home a few hours later, Niall asleep on the couch as Louis stirs his tea.

“Tell him what?” Louis asks. But he knows.

“Tell him you don’t want him to leave.”

They don’t say anything because there’s nothing else to say, really, when it’s as simple as that.

_niall._

He’s been standing outside Louis’ door for almost twenty minutes, keys in his hands and coat on because he should really get going. Technically he should’ve left an hour ago but he can’t be fucked to move from in front of this door.

So he knocks.

“Come in,” Louis says, sounding stressed.

Niall turns the knob, opening it as he finds a surprised Louis staring back at him from where he’s sitting at his desk. The surprise is something he was expecting, considering they’d said their goodbye about half an hour ago when Niall had gotten all his stuff together.

“Hi,” Niall says uselessly.

“Shouldn’t you be on a plane?” Louis asks in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

A fair question. “I um, I wanted to ask you something.”

It’s suddenly tense, as if somehow Louis knew this was coming. He nods. “Get on with it then.”

And this isn’t a small thing. This is a fucking huge thing, the weight of it suddenly hitting Niall as he pulls out his plane ticket. 

“I have this,” he says slowly.

“Your plane ticket? Good thing. I hear you need those to board your flight and stuff,” Louis deadpans.

“This isn’t for me.”

That shuts Louis up rather effectively, his face dropping as he takes the ticket Niall’s extending toward him wordlessly. 

“What — what are you asking me, Niall?”

Niall takes in a deep breath. “I want you to come with me.”

“Come with you,” Louis repeats slowly.

“Come with me to Los Angeles. Find a job, or stay with me or do something, I don’t care. Just be there. With me.” Niall says. He’s rehearsed this a thousand times since last night and fuck, it’s all coming out wrong. “I don’t want to go back there alone.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes. Louis stares at the ticket, his expression hard to read and Niall doesn’t move from where he’s standing, waiting for some sort of response. But he means what he said, means every word. There’s no point in doing this, any of this without Louis there with him. 

“So what, you just want me to pack up my entire life and go with you?” Louis says finally, his tone a lot colder than what Niall had been expecting.

“It could be something new. Something we could figure out together,” Niall replies.

“I can’t believe you would expect me to do that. I want to be a teacher, I can’t go across the world with a pop star and thinking I’ve got my life made,” Louis says, his voice shaking a little as he talks. “Do you think I’m just in school for the fun of it? That I was waiting for you to sweep me off my feet and into your million dollar jet and take me wherever your next show is?”

Niall can feel his stomach flip, palms starting to sweat as he shakes his head. “No, Louis, God I just — I just want you.”

“That’s rich,” Louis says, pushing the plane ticket against his chest. “You can keep your fucking plane ticket and leave, actually. I think I’ve heard about enough.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a dick about this —”

“Of course you don’t understand. Of course you don’t see why I wouldn’t want to leave my sad, pathetic life here in London so I can be what? The nameless boyfriend of an up and coming popstar? What a legacy I would have,” Louis says. Niall winces. “I have my own life. And you were a part of that when you were here.”

“I’m still a part of it,” Niall argues, his voice raising while he talks now.

“No, you were a part of it until you moved to fucking Los Angeles. Don’t kid yourself here, Horan.”

“So that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Niall asks but he’s not sure he wants the answer.

Louis stares at him and just for a second Niall thinks he might change his mind, a look flashing across his face but then it’s gone, shaking his head as he goes to open the door. 

“Louis —”

“Bye, Niall.”

And that’s it. The door is closed and he’s left there with a ticket in his hand wondering how the fuck he’s going to fix this.

_louis._

“You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

“You haven’t left your bed in three days,” Harry says pointedly.

“I’m writing a paper,” Louis says, motioning toward the laptop presently resting on his thighs.

He’s not writing. He’s actually reading a review on Niall Horan’s newest album and so far it’s nothing short of a rave. In fact, every review he’s come across has said essentially the same thing; that this small town boy is going to take over the world. 

“Have you talked to him at all?”

Louis licks his lips, leaning back against his pillows. “He texted me this morning asking how I was.”

Harry leans against his doorway, evidently unimpressed. “Did you say anything?”

“I told him I was fine, and thanks for asking.”

“Is that also what you told him when you told him to take his ticket and leave?” Harry asks, taking a step into his room.

Honestly, he should’ve seen that coming. “You had preferred I go with him? Because Zayn’s got an extra room at his flat —”

“Jesus, don’t get so defensive.” Harry cuts him off, sitting on the end of his bed. “I’m just, concerned. That’s all.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Concerned how.”

“Did you want to go with him?” 

“Of course not. Why would I want to move to fucking Los Angeles of all places? It’s too hot. Not to mention it’s a little far of a commute to school,” Louis replies.

Harry isn’t smiling, clearly not amused with Louis’ attempt at humour as he lays on his back, hands folded neatly on his chest where he’s staring up at the ceiling. 

“I think you wanted to go you were just scared,” Harry says as-a-matter-factly. Like he somehow knows. 

He doesn’t know. He’s just a cocky curly haired boy who thinks he knows what Louis wants. But he can’t know what Louis wants because Louis isn’t even sure what he wants.

“I think you’re full of shit,” Louis replies, turning back to his laptop screen.

Louis continues to skim the article, mentions of ‘highly praised lyrics’ and ‘catchy and upbeat melodies’ when there’s a small tap on his foot. 

“Now before you start yelling at me again —” Harry starts. Louis frowns.

“I wasn’t yelling, for God’s sake —”

“As I was saying,” Louis doesn’t interject, feeling Harry’s finger continuing to hit his foot when he continues talking without any sort of prompting, “I think, that. You want to be with Niall but you’re scared because of this new life he’s made for himself.”

“Perhaps.”

“And since you’re scared you’re pushing him away. Because you’ve somehow got it into your head that someone who’s now famous isn’t going to stay the same person you were friends with, so you’re also afraid he’s no longer going to be the Niall you know,” Harry pauses, looking up at him. “So stop me if I’m wrong but it’s not actually about Los Angeles, but Niall himself.”

There’s a brief moment where he considers smothering Harry with his pillow. But the urge soon fades, and Louis kicks at his hand lightly with his foot, like a small child who’s being pestered. Which he is. Harry is a pest. Or something like it.

“I think you think too much,” Louis says, avoiding the topic entirely. Harry rolls his eyes, annoyed.

“Suit yourself. But you didn’t correct me, did you?” Harry says, pointing a finger toward him.

“Fuck off,” Louis says, ignoring the way Harry grins before walking out the door.

Liam’s voice soon joins Harry’s in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans coming out of cupboards as Louis continues to look at his laptop. Maybe Harry’s right. Or maybe, things weren’t going to work out anyway, so this whole popstar business was an easier way for them to end whatever was between them before it got serious. 

God. Louis sighs, rubbing his hands along his face as he closes his computer. His picks up his phone where he’d left it on his bedside table, dialing a number when it starts to ring.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hi, Ni. It’s Louis,” he says, already feeling a little sick as he grips his phone.

“ _Hi,_ ” Niall starts. There’s the sound of someone talking to him before, “ _how are you doing?_ ”

“Fine, fine. Nothing really new here. I finished up my placement last week. Got a shining review from Mr. Guildry,” Louis says, trying to smile.

“ _That’s brilliant, Lou. Told you you’d be fine,_ ” Niall replies and it’s so genuine that it makes Louis miss him. Really miss him.

“Yeah yeah, sure you did,” Louis plays it off, keeping his voice steady. “Where are you?”

“ _Just outside a studio somewhere, doing an interview. Been at it all week can you believe it? Doesn’t even feel like it’s real._ ”

It’s so easy to picture Niall in a parking lot somewhere, sunglasses on and wearing those god forsaken tank tops he’s grown a liking for in the past few weeks. Probably in those bright coloured sneakers, pants rolled up in the hot California sun. 

“Maybe I’ll watch it when it airs,” Louis says, hearing Liam beginning to shout something incoherent as he sits up. “I should go, though. Got some things to do.”

“ _Sure, yeah. Good to hear from you._ ” 

“You too. Bye,” Louis says before hanging up, putting his phone back onto the bedside table and going to the kitchen to make sure neither Harry or Liam are burning down the flat. He doesn’t think about how much he misses Niall, instead he puts one foot in front of the other because that’s all he can focus on right now.

—

There’s missed calls. Unanswered texts. Short phone conversations.

“ _Hi, Louis, it’s me. I’m um — you called me, so I’m calling you back. I’m actually about to perform but I thought I’d give you a call real quick, just in case you thought I’d forgotten, or something. I hadn’t forgotten. Anyway, shit I need to go but I’ll call you again? We’ll catch each other soon._ ” 

Louis doesn’t replay the message though he sort of wants to, sitting on Zayn’s couch when he locks his phone. It’s the third message Niall’s left him this week, also the third one Louis hasn’t returned because he’s not sure he can, really. 

Because what’s the fucking point. So they can have the same conversation? “Hi,” “hi,” “how are you?” ,“good how are you?”, “good”, “great”, “okay bye” it’s always the same thing. And it’s easier not having the same conversation than to have any at all, really. All it does is remind him of the large distance that’s presently between them. So he lets his phone go onto the coffee table, turning on the television as he waits for Zayn to get back with their dinner.

He’s flipping through the channels until he stops on one, seeing a familiar face as Louis’ eyes widen. “Un-fucking-believable,” he whispers to himself, glaring at the screen.

“ _I’m joined here today by Mr. Niall Horan! How are you tonight?_ ” the interviewer asks, looking a little too close to Niall, if you ask Louis.

“ _Great, absolutely buzzin’,_ ” Niall responds and that’s such a fucking typical answer for him. “ _I can’t believe I’m here, performing. It’s a dream come true really._ ”

Louis pauses, brows furrowing as he tries to think back to where he possibly could be. Some sort of music awards? Harry mentioned it the other day in passing at breakfast. Though Louis was too busy pretending to be preoccupied with making toast not to listen. 

“ _Well I know a lot of people are excited for it. I mean, all this success in just a little over a year. Must be a little surreal for you, isn’t it? You did just hit almost ten million twitter followers the other day. I’d say that’s impressive._ ”

Ten million, Jesus Christ. Louis can’t think of ten million anything, let alone ten million twitter followers.

“ _Ten million?_ ” Niall asks, looking at the camera with wide eyes.

“Oh don’t play dumb, Horan, I’ve seen you check your twitter followers with my own fucking eyes,” Louis practically yells at the television, rather thankful Zayn isn’t here to witness this. This being whatever odd mental breakdown he’s having.

“ _Ten million. Absolutely insane. In a good way,_ ” Niall replies.

He looks good in his suit. Not that Louis is checking him out, or anything, just merely an observation. 

“ _I look forward to seeing you perform, Niall. Maybe even up on stage holding an award?_ ” Fuck this interviewer, honestly. It’s an interview not a chance to make a grab at Niall’s dick.

“ _Maybe! Keep your fingers crossed!_ ” He blows a kiss to the camera before being led away, Louis fuming where he’s sitting on the couch. Little fucker. 

Curious, and not overly taken with the idea of sitting through two hours of a boring award show he takes out his phone to get an answer. _did niall actually win the award?_

It takes Harry all of two minutes to respond. _Watch it and find out you twat .x_

_fuk u very much i have things to do_

_He does look good in a suit though doesn’t he? ;)_

If questioned Louis will deny ever throwing his phone across the room and breaking one of Zayn’s glasses for his brash actions. Harry’s an asshole anyway.

_niall._

Inexplicably his first thought had been Louis. He’d been sitting in his seat, not even sure he’d heard it correctly when they’d called out his name.

“And this year’s Single of the Year goes too —” Selena paused, opening the envelope before reading, “Carry Me On by Niall Horan!”

Ed stood from beside him, pulling him into a hug and it became a mixture of adrenaline and a mess of thoughts — _oh my God, they called my name, I won a fucking award_ — in his head when he’d walked up toward the steps. There had been clapping and yelling and it had been put into his hands but something had been missing.

Maybe because when he’d looked back at his seat the one beside him had been empty, apart from Ed to his left. And maybe then, standing on that stage alone did he realize just what it was he’d left back in London when he’d left. It was something a lot bigger than the award in his hand.

Not something, but someone.

— 

When Theo’s born he takes a few weeks off. There’s no room for argument or discussion, he’s going home. Even when Ed sits him down and tries to tell him that taking time off like that right now isn’t going to help his career Niall doesn’t listen. He’s an uncle and he doesn’t really care if he comes back to LA with no singing career left, he’s leaving. His mother is ecstatic because she now “not only has a grandson, but her son is coming home,” she’d said through a mess of tears over the phone. 

By the front door he’s got his suitcases along with his guitar case, needing to make one last phone call before he’s out the door.

“ _I’m going to kill you, Horan._ ”

“Shit, fuck I forgot about the time zones what time is it —”

“ _Five thirty in the morning. What the everloving fuck is wrong with you?_ ” 

“I’ll make it up to you, promise, just. Hear me out.” Louis makes a sleepy grunting sound in response. “I know last time I bought you a ticket things didn’t go over so well.”

“ _Go over so well as in me slamming my door in your face?_ ”

“Right. That,” Niall says, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “But I was hoping we’d give it another go.”

“ _Stop buying flights for me to LA they’re fucking expensive. I don’t care if you’re a popstar or not don’t waste your money on that._ ”

“No I’m um, coming home. For a few weeks.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for about a minute and Niall’s afraid he’s fallen back asleep until — “ _Congratulations. Is that why you called me._ ”

“I want you come to Mullingar, just for a week. Harry said you’re done everything with school so I thought you could use a break.”

“ _Will you be there?_ ”

“At my parents house? Yes. Imagine that.” Niall deadpans.

“ _Don’t be a dick,_ ” Louis starts before asking, “ _is there anything to even do there? Besides drink and sing old Irish songs?_ ” 

“Just say yes, Louis.”

“ _Fine, yes, I’ll be there. Can I go back to sleep now?_ ”

“Yeah you can go back to sleep,” Niall replies, hearing a faint ‘ _fuck you you wanker_ ’ before Louis hangs up.

_louis._

For starters, Harry is a traitor. 

A traitor because he told Niall that he didn’t have a job or any plans for the first few weeks of summer, therefore giving him no real excuse to say no to his impromptu trip to Mullingar for a week. An entire week. Several days, in the same house with Niall after not seeing him for almost two months after a rather unpleasant conversation when he’d left the first time.

And second, Louis has no idea why he’s even here.

But as he’s been reminding himself over the past few hours, it’s just seven days. What’s the worst that could happen in several days?

Quite a lot, actually, but that’s beside the point. 

He’s presently in Greg’s old room, a little past midnight where he’s staring up at the ceiling, where he’s been laying for the past hour because for some reason he can’t sleep. On the wall there’s old posters, from football teams and one of Kate Beckinsale along the wall as Louis smirks to himself. They’ve always been big fans of Kate, those Horans. When Louis first met Niall, drunk and at some bar he can’t remember that had been one of the first things he’d said.

“I am in love with Kate Beckinsale,” Louis can almost feel Niall’s breath on his neck, hot and with an arm wrapped around Louis’ waist to steady himself.

It would have perhaps been more humorous if he had known who Kate Beckinsale was. But knowing Niall Louis has since then learned, having seen almost all her movies over the course of his four years of knowing Niall.

Maybe he could get some water. God knows he won’t need to eat until the morning because Niall’s mom, Maura, has a habit where she has this incessant need to feed people so he’s well full. He slowly gets up, swinging his legs over the bed and taking a sweater from on top of his suitcase and pulling it over his head. 

The hallway is dark, a bit of the wood making a small noise beneath his weight, making him suddenly very aware of how many people are actually asleep in this house. So he tries to step lightly, making his way into the kitchen where he opens a cupboard to find a glass. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Louis makes every effort not to drop his cup but he can’t stop himself from the small, high pitched noise he makes in surprise at the voice. He turns, finding Niall watching him with an amused look on his face.

“You could warn a person you dick,” Louis replies, turning on the tap and filling his cup up with water.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Niall says. He’s leaning against the counter beside Louis, looking sleepy and soft. God, Louis hates him.

“I can sleep fine, thanks. Just a little thirsty.” Louis eyes him, taking a sip before adding, “why are you awake then?”

“Jetlag,” Niall answers easily. “Happens every time I come home.”

Louis nods. He looks away from Niall in all his sleepy glory, finding a picture on the window ledge. He pauses. It’s Niall and who Louis assumes to be Theo in his lap, grinning up at the camera with an odd sort of orange lighting on his features.

“When was this taken?” he asks, fingers still wrapped around the cup.

“Theo’s christening last week,” Niall says, his arm brushing Louis’ as he reaches to pick up the frame. “Though according to my mum I’m not holding his head right.”

“You’re not. You’ve got to support the neck, haven’t I taught you anything?” Louis asks, trying to sound as appalled as he can muster.

Niall puts the frame back onto the window ledge wordlessly, his fingertips brushing Louis’ arm and the contact makes him warm, a small shiver running through him. Niall doesn’t move them right away, keeps them against his skin and he looks down, laughing a little.

“Sometimes I forget you’ve got sisters,” he admits.

Louis shrugs. “S’alright. Sometimes I forget too.”

“Idiot,” Niall says, bumping Louis’ hip with his own in response.

And it would be so easy to kiss him, right here. In the dim light of the kitchen, with a cup of water in one hand and next to no worries of the consequences about having to deal with it in the morning. 

“I should, um, go back and try to sleep,” Louis says instead, taking a step backwards. “Got that big day tomorrow haven’t we?”

Niall blinks at him slowly, looking somehow both confused and hurt at once. “Yeah what did I say like, eight thirty?”

Louis nods, water still at hand as he gives Niall one last look. “Night, Ni.”

“Night, Lou,” is all he hears before he makes it back into his room.

—

When Niall proposed this whole visit Louis assumed he would’ve had it all planned out but as it stands, he hardly has anything really scheduled. In the morning Louis wakes up, padding into the bathroom as he takes a shower, coming out to have some eggs and toast with Niall and Maura while the news plays in the background.

And it’s so easy, is what really strikes Louis. Easy to eat next to him, laughing at whatever dumb joke Niall makes. Easy to sit at the table and listen to his mum hum quietly from the stove. Almost like how it was, before all of this happened.

“So what’s the plan today then?” Louis asks when he’s had his fill, leaning against his chair as he gently kicks at Niall’s shin.

“Well, I have to return my suit from my brother’s wedding —”

“Jesus, wasn’t that ages ago?” Louis asks. Niall gives him a look.

“Then we’ve got to get some things from the bakery for mum and then I don’t know, really.”

“Right, well. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Niall grins at him and it’s brightest thing in the room, Louis thinks.

Mullingar is a small town, from the two times prior to this visit Louis had been here, that part had always stuck with him. He and Harry had come one weekend when they’d first met Niall in Uni, and by the looks of things nothing has really changed since then.

When Niall returns his suit the woman chats with him for a while, smiling widely and looking over in Louis’ direction every so often. He doesn’t listen, though he can hear them laughing every few minutes where Niall is leaning over the counter. 

“Good to see you Niall,” the woman, apparently named Vicki, says when they’re leaving the store.

“Still got the charm I see,” Louis comments.

Niall rolls his eyes, not saying as they make their way back to their car. “How’s your football game been?” 

Louis looks over at him where they’re getting into the car. “Could still kick your ass, Horan.”

“Lets see if that’s still true, Tommo.”

_niall._

The last time they’d played football they’d both been drunk, kicking the ball around haphazardly and yelling loudly at one another at nearly three in the morning in a small bit of grass near Louis’ flat. However this time they’re both sober, now on the field at Niall’s old school as he finishes tying up his shoes.

“Almost done there? We’ve got a game to get too before the bakery closes,” Niall says where he’s leaning against a goal post. Louis flips him off.

He puts the ball onto the ground and kicks it, Louis already anticipating where he’s running as he tries to follow Niall, feet moving fast across the grass. The sun’s out, making it a little warmer for March as he takes his first shot. Louis blocks it, laughing loudly as he tosses the ball back, shaking his head.

“Gonna have to try harder than that!” Louis practically yells, hands cupped around his face.

It’s different here. There’s no camera’s and interviewers, no paparazzi following his every move, no schedule to have to go off of. All he has to focus on is somehow beating Louis.

In the end the score is five Louis (or ‘The Tommo’ as he’s nicknamed himself) and two Niall, which is nothing short of a sad loss. 

“Don’t worry,” Louis says, putting an arm around his shoulder. “I won’t tell that many people.”

“That’s a lie,” Niall replies and Louis laughs.

And sure enough when they walk in the door to his mother making dinner Louis makes his way into the kitchen, chest puffed out as he tells her about their game and how badly Niall had lost.

“I always knew you were my favourite,” his mother says, ruffling Louis’ hair as Niall rolls his eyes.

Denise and Greg come by for dinner, Theo sleeping in a small crib set up in the living room with Louis sitting across from him at the table. And it’s strange because he’s quiet for most of the dinner, watching and picking at his food as Greg leans forward in his seat, a determined look on his face.

“So Denise and I were thinking,” he starts. Niall snorts.

“Can never be good if you’re thinking,” Niall cuts in, his brother flipping him off as he laughs loudly.

“Anyway,” Greg begins again, his fork raised dramatically as he speaks now. “We were thinking of watching a movie tonight, the whole lot of us?”

Niall glances to Louis first, looking for some sort of apprehension on his face but he finds none. Instead he’s nodding, picking up his plate as he starts stacking Denise’s empty plate on top of it. 

“Yeah,” Niall starts, answering for both him and Louis. “‘That sounds great.”

“Just so long as Greg doesn’t pick the movie,” Niall’s father says from where he’s putting dishes in the sink.

It’s not until he’s nearly finished doing dishes with his dad does Niall notice Louis isn’t there anymore. He sets down the damp towel, taking a few steps as he pauses before entering the living room. Greg, Denise, and his mother are in another room trying to figure out the new stroller they bought but, there’s Louis.

He’s bent over the crib, his face animated where Theo’s got a small grip on his first finger, though Louis doesn’t seem to mind at all. Louis’ voice is hushed, having a conversation with Theo when there’s a small giggle in response.

“Not talking about me I hope,” Niall says, Louis looking up toward him.

“Funny you should say that,” Louis says, tickling Theo where he’s laying on his back. “We were discussing your fashion choices as of late.”

Niall’s brows furrow as he looks at Theo, then Louis. “What about them? They’re fine.”

“Well, the tank tops are questionable. Not too mention your bright coloured sneakers,” Louis begins. 

Theo’s giggling when Niall picks him up, balancing him on his hip as he gently pokes his cheek. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this,” he says.

Louis shrugs. “It was inevitable. I’m sorry.”

And for a moment Louis likes he wants to say something, a line of concentration across his forehead as he opens his mouth —

“So, dad and I were thinking of maybe watching that new Iron Man movie?” Greg suggests, moving to sit on the couch.

Niall bounces Theo on his hip, kissing his forehead where he makes a gurgling sounds in response. “Sounds like that’s a yes,” he says and when he looks up Louis is smiling at him, though it’s somehow sad, Niall thinks.

_louis._

He doesn’t say much during the movie. They’re on the couch, Niall beside him and trying to focus on the movie. But he’s seen it a handful of times because Liam and Zayn were properly obsessed when it came out, making him and Harry sit through it a few too many times.

What he does focus on, however, is the way Niall’s fingers keep brushing the back of his hand. Louis’ arms are crossed over his chest, his hand tucked underneath his arm but that doesn’t stop Niall from occasionally brushing against it. And it’s fine, it’s nothing. 

Somewhere between an explosion and Robert Downey Jr. saying something sarcastic Louis stands to go to the bathroom, taking out his phone as soon as he closes the door, typing a text.

_niall’s raeLLY CLOSE TO ME I DOn’t know wha ti’m doign_

He waits for Harry to respond impatiently, about to send another one when he notices the small bubble at the bottom of his screen, showing he’s at least typing which, thank God.

_Aren’t you two staying in the same house? Wasn’t that bound to happen?_

Louis rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have time for this. _we re watching that iron man movie and he keeps touching my hand???????!!!?_

_Think someone’s got a crush on you, Louuuuuuuuuu .x_

He glares at his phone, feeling his cheeks getting warm. _u are very unhelpful today, did u know that?_

_Just play along. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Grab his dick or something. :)_

The smiley face is a bit much but, Harry does have a point. _probably wont grab his dick bc of the small child but thank u_

_Liam says good luck! So do I!_

_im revoking ur title as best friend_

_Ah, lovely. Aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine today, Louis. Now get back there you’re being rude .x_

He swallows, putting his phone back into his pocket as he makes his way back into the living room and beside Niall. 

“You okay?” Niall asks, leaning close to his breath is warm on Louis’ ear.

Louis nods, not trusting himself to speak as he continues to watch the screen. Niall leans back against the couch and maybe he can have a little fun with this. And so as not to draw much attention to it, he carefully brings a hand to rest on Niall’s thigh, just above the knee. No one even bats an eye except Niall who turns his head, just slightly, but Louis isn’t looking at his face. 

He moves his hand up slowly, tracing along the inside of Niall’s thigh as Louis feels him tense, sucking in a sharp breath. Harry was right about this, this is fun. Especially the way Niall squirms just a little when Louis’ hand almost brushes his cock. But then he takes it away, folding his hands in his lap, as if nothing had happened.

Though judging by Niall’s red face and rather noticeable laboured breathing, it wasn’t just nothing. And when Niall makes a run for the bathroom it takes all of Louis’ strength not to laugh loudly as he buries his face in the pillow next to him.

_mission accomplished ;) ;) ;)_

— 

The weirdest thing about being here, Louis thinks, is how quiet it gets at night. Even when he’s home in London and it’s late it’s almost guaranteed that one of them are up, making tea or watching television. Maybe that’s why he can’t sleep, Louis thinks as he starts to boil some water for tea. It’s an electric kettle, state of the art according to Niall’s mum as she had so proudly shown Louis earlier when she’d made tea before the movie. But mostly it means that it won’t make a high pitched sound and wake up everyone.

After Louis’ little incident of nearly touching Niall’s dick in front of his family they’d gone to bed almost giddy, like they were somehow back in high school. But then Niall had gotten a call from his publicist and that had faded rather quickly, the two of them going into their separate rooms.

He locates the milk easily, letting his tea bag steep for a few minutes before tossing it into the garbage bin. Louis’ hands are cold when he wraps them around the warmth of the mug, staring down at it for a while. 

It seems easier here, somehow. Easier to see Niall as Niall, not Niall Horan the singer or Niall Horan the Irish Heartthrob. Because he’s still himself and Louis finds that incredibly frustrating because he’s not supposed to still be himself. He’s supposed to be a stuck up prick, or something, giving Louis a real reason to hate him. But after these past few days his list of resenting Niall is getting increasingly smaller and smaller and Louis hates himself a little for it. 

Louis doesn’t even want tea. He doesn’t know what he wants. Well, that’s not true. He knows what he wants. He’s just too scared to go and get it, he supposes, even though they’re sleeping just down the hallway. Because what if it doesn’t work out? What if it all just sort of, falls apart? 

Because he’s never had any sort of neutral feelings for Niall. They’ve always been strong, always wanting more more more more but Louis always held back, just a little, on the verge of what they could have had but never really let himself go with it. Maybe because he never knew how Niall felt, but Louis knows that’s a lie. He’s always known how Niall’s felt.

From behind he hears someone clear their throat as Louis turns, finding Niall staring at him from the doorway once more, oddly reminiscent of the other night. 

“How’s the kettle?” Niall asks.

“Works great, you picked a good one.” Louis replies, now facing him where he’s still got his mug in his hands. “You’ve got good taste in kettles.”

Niall smiles, his cheeks flushing a little as he takes a few steps toward Louis before pausing. “Good to know. That’s a good quality to have, I hear.”

Louis nods, taking a sip of his tea. It’s not awkward, the silence, but more so weighted. As if what they do now will have an affect on the rest of their relationship from here on out. Which, is a lot of weight.

“Can’t sleep?” Louis asks.

“Something like that. Heard you get up and wanted to see if you were alright,” Niall replies with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“I can make more tea —” Louis says but he stops when he watches Niall take a few more steps, now standing directly in front of him and, oh. 

“Don’t want tea,” Niall says quietly, his tone serious.

“What do you want, then?” Louis isn’t even sure why he’s offering because this isn’t even his fucking house.

Niall’s just looking at him, not moving and not wavering, with a look of determination on his face. Louis knows that look. He’s terrified of that look.

“You know what I want, Louis.” Niall replies, bringing a thumb to run along his lower lip in a slow, gentle motion.

His touch is warm and Louis nearly lets a small moan escape his lips because, God. He’s not sure he’ll be able to find someone who can have this effect on him except Niall. 

“I want you to say it, Niall.”

“I want you.”

And there it is. He can’t take it back, he can’t do anything except stand there and wait for Louis’ response. He swallows, Niall’s hand now moving to take Louis’ free one in his own. 

“Is that why you brought me here then? To tell me that?” Louis asks, not moving his hand.

“Sort of,” Niall replies, the smile still on his lips as he runs his thumb along the back of Louis’ hand where he watches the movement for a moment. “I just mostly wanted to show that it’s still me.”

“Still you,” Louis repeats, now distracted by the slow moving circles being traced along his skin. 

“I’m not any different, why else did you think I brought you here?”

That’s it, really. Louis leans forward because he’s tired of having conversations and he’s tired of having so many worries and he’s just tired. Niall doesn’t protest when Louis presses his lips against his, carefully, slotting them together in a way that they’ve always seemed to fit so well. It’s half a second before Niall presses back, more insistent with his hands on Louis’ waist as he pulls him closer. Louis follows, his mug now left on the counter so all he can focus on is sucking on Niall’s lower lip and the rather low moan Niall lets out in response when he does.

“Hi,” Louis says when he pulls away, just a little, his forehead resting against Niall’s.

“Hi yourself,” Niall replies, his smile widening and God, they’re really pathetic, aren’t they? Almost as bad as Harry and Liam.

_Almost._

“I vote we take this elsewhere. We might be giving the kettle a bit too much of a show. Don’t wanna scare the poor dear for life,” Louis proposes as Niall laughs into his neck.

“What, you think it’ll make a pass at us?” Niall replies and Louis rolls his eyes.

“You are the absolute worst,” he replies as Niall presses an apologetic kiss to the side of Louis’ neck. “But that’s helping, so please continue.”

They nearly trip over a laundry basket on their way to Louis’ room because it’s the farthest from Niall’s parents’ room and the closest one as they muffle their giggles best they can before slipping inside. He left his lamp on on the bedside table as they make their way to the bed, Niall kissing Louis again as the back of his knees hit the mattress.

“You taste like tea,” Niall comments, helping Louis take off his shirt from where he’s laying on the mattress.

“Funny, that.” Louis deadpans. “Because I’ve only just had some —” but he’s cut off when Niall kisses him again, aggressively. Louis laughs into his mouth.

“Always a smartass,” Niall says, now taking off his own shirt as Louis hums in appreciation. 

“Don’t act like you hate it,” Louis replies, grinning when Niall rolls his eyes.

Instead of saying anything in response Niall twists one of Louis’ nipples as he makes a small noise in response, soon muffled when he slaps a hand over his mouth. They both pause, waiting for any kind of movement from Niall’s parents but when it doesn’t come they’re kissing again, Louis kicking off his slippers as they fall off the end of the bed. 

Niall carefully positions himself between Louis’ legs, pushing his tongue into his mouth as Louis whines, quietly, because he can’t help himself anymore. He feels warm all over, the friction in his jeans becoming too much as his hips move up, insistent against Niall’s thigh.

“Yes, Louis?” Niall asks, palming his already embarrassingly hard cock through his jeans.

“Don’t be a little fuck,” Louis snaps, breathless.

There’s a moment before Niall blinks, his eyes widening as he pulls back, just a bit. “You mean, you want us too —”

“Yes —” Louis stops, looking up before, “unless you don’t want too? We could just, y’know, keep doing this —”

“No, no not like that,” Niall cuts him off, sitting up as he glances toward the door. “I just need to get. The stuff.”

“Oh my God.” Louis throws an arm over his face to muffle his laughter. “By stuff you mean lube and condoms, I hope.”

Niall doesn’t respond, instead going across the room in nothing but his boxers as he opens the door and walks out into the hallway. Louis can hear his footsteps along the floor, still laughing to himself until Niall comes back, his face red where he slowly climbs back onto the bed.

“I was gone this whole time and yet. You’re still wearing pants,” Niall complains, taking off the cap where he starts to pour some lube onto his fingers.

Louis works his pants off, moving his hips until they’re gone, along with his boxers as Niall nods. 

“Better?” Louis asks.

“Much,” Niall says, leaning down to kiss him once more.

He immediately licks into Louis’ mouth, stroking along his cock as Louis makes the same whining sound in response. It’s only a short while until he’s hard again, Niall pressing in one finger as Louis arches his back because fuck, it’s been so long. It’s been so long and Niall knows just where to touch him, what gets Louis squirming and writhing beneath him wanting more more more. 

And by the time Niall’s got his third finger in Louis is nearly panting, gripping at Niall’s arms for some support. Niall’s sliding the condom over himself, applying more lube — the warmth now gone from where his fingers had been inside Louis just a few seconds ago. 

“You okay?” Niall asks, kissing him briefly as Louis nods.

Louis leans back against the pillows, inhaling sharply when Niall first pushes into him slowly, trying to get himself comfortable as he makes a low sort of sound in the back of his throat. It hurts a little at first, Louis biting down on the inside of his cheek while Niall tries to adjust. Somewhere along there Niall tips the bottle of lube, getting it all over the sheets as he closes his eyes for just a moment, shaking his head.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis says but Niall’s already laughing, gently nipping along Louis’ jawline.

“Don’t think about it I’ll clean it up later,” Niall says quickly and suddenly he’s kissing Louis again and that is enough to get his mind off of a spilled bottle of lube. 

But Louis isn’t laughing anymore when Nialls in him again, picking up his pace as Louis stutters out a breath in response. His orgasm is growing his stomach, warm and making his toes curl as he brings his hand to his cock to help lessen the pressure there.

When he finally comes Niall kisses him, quieting the moan from the back of his throat. It’s a few minutes before Niall comes, pulling out of Louis and collapsing onto the bed and removing the condom, tossing it into the garbage bin when Louis climbs over him, pressing kisses along his skin.

“So. That was nice.” Louis comments as Niall shakes his head, burying his face somewhere in his collarbone and neck.

“We could’ve had a sentimental moment just then, you know,” Niall says. Louis scoffs.

“Got plenty of time for those, don’t we?” Louis asks and Niall nods because yeah, they’ve got loads of time.

“Missed you,” Niall says after a moment, quietly.

Louis kisses the inside of his wrist. “Missed you too,” he says finally before adding — “and your dick.”

Niall blinks before bursting out into laughter, loud and something Louis hasn’t heard in a long time. However it’s also two in the morning so he makes quick work of covering Niall’s mouth, muffling the sound at least a little as he continues to laugh. 

“I missed your dick too, you idiot,” Niall says between his laughter, taking Louis’ hand off his mouth as he bites of his fingers briefly.

“My dick is something to be missed, Horan. Don’t you forget it.”

They fall asleep somewhere between Niall kissing him and Louis trying to come up with nicknames for his dick, rather keen on Daniel and Louis Jr. but he falls asleep content. More content than he’s felt in months.

_Five months later._

“His hair is lighter.”

“His hair is not lighter, it’s the sun,” Louis snaps as Harry continues to stare at the screen, squinting his eyes.

“No way. It’s definitely lighter,” Harry argues. 

Louis doesn’t reply, instead kicking at his thigh before looking back to where Niall is presently standing on a stage, looking incredibly tanned and holding a mic in his hands. There’s a few people in front of him, talking to the camera’s as Louis watches Niall pull out his phone.

 _I’m nerrrrrrrrvous !!!!!_ he texts with a scared looking emoji behind it. 

_this should help ease ur nerves then_ Louis replies, attaching a picture of a dick Harry had randomly texted him a few weeks back in class as a joke. Wasn’t a joke when Louis yelped and dropped his phone in the middle of class, but looking back now he supposes it’s a little funny. Either way he sends it, waiting until Niall checks his phone again when his eyes noticeably widen, looking both horrified and a little turned on all at once. Louis grins.

_L OUIS IM GOING TO KILL YOU !!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS LIVE_

“Louis what the fuck did you do —” Zayn starts in but Louis is too busy replying to Niall to say anything, typing out a message in response.

_looking forward to it babe! ;) two weeks! xoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](http://loueh.tumblr.com/) if you wanna drop by!


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